


all the ashes in her wake

by 95echelon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Blanket Permission, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 20:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12328266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/95echelon/pseuds/95echelon
Summary: Sansa is born at the height of the long summer, and sent to Sunspear to foster with the Martells. She is raised amongst sand snakes and pit vipers, under the shadow of Arianne Martell, the loveliest, deadliest woman in the Seven Kingdoms, the future Ruling Lady of Dorne.And so, before she learns to be a lady, Sansa learns to be a queen.





	all the ashes in her wake

Jon craves Sansa. And blood.  
Sansa craves power. And Jon.

They compromise, and forge an empire.

 

###### Or.

This is how the peace is struck. The girl named Targaryen is not raised in the Crownlands.  
_Rhaenys Targaryen is raised in the Vale._

The girl named Baratheon does not learn the stormy seas of Shipbreaker Bay.  
_Shireen Baratheon is sent to Highgarden._

The girls of Winterfell grow far in the South.  
_Arya Stark is held hostage by King's Landing, and Sansa, by Dorne._

 

###### Or.

Sansa is born at the height of the long summer, and sent to Sunspear to foster with the Martells. She is raised amongst sand snakes and pit vipers, under the shadow of Arianne Martell, the loveliest, deadliest woman in the Seven Kingdoms, the future Ruling Lady of Dorne.

And so, before she learns to be a lady, Sansa learns to be a queen.

 

###### Or.

The first time they meet, Sansa is nine, Jon is twelve, and Nymeria Sand nearly cuts out his eye with the point of a poisoned dagger. He twists away with not a breath to spare, and the whole courtyard holds themselves in tense, fear-fraught silence, for Nymeria may be a Martell's girl, but Jon Snow is the King's bastard, and some lines are drawn in stone.

The wind rustles, dry and heavy with the scent of summersweet, as Jon Snow lies prone on the ground for a long moment, before he chuckles dryly, accepting Nymeria's hand when he hauls himself to his feet, and clapping her on the shoulder, thanking her for an excellent match.

He catches Sansa's gaze before he turns to the cheering crowd, as Nymeria bows in an exaggerated imitation of her prince father's courtly courtesies, and though he's flush with exertion, Sansa thinks he reddens just a little more when she grins, arching a brow at the young bastard boy. She files that blush away, tucking it close to her breast, turning into the adoring masses and disappearing back to the summer palace.

Jon Snow. Jon Snow. The fifth in line to the Iron Throne, for all that he's baseborn... and he's _sweet._

Sansa can't help but laugh.

 

###### Or.

The second time they meet, she is seven-and-ten, and Nymeria Sand is not even marginally involved when Sansa walks him back into her darkened bedchamber, and proceeds to divest him of his virginity with shocking, lovely, breathtaking ease. 

 

###### Or.

When the King tells her she must wed her brother, Daenerys abdicates the seat of Dragonstone and runs off to Essos. She is only a girl, and too pretty by half, so Arthur Dayne sighs, and packs his things, and follows her across the Narrow Sea.

She returns, years later, on the backs of dragons, yes, but when Rhaegar passes with no trueborn heir left alive, and civil war breaks out across the country, monsters in a distant land are the least of anyone's worries.

Not while there are monsters at home.

 

###### Or.

This is how it changes.

The Martells hear of a King's arrival at the Tower of Joy. It is Arianne who climbs the stairs first, and discovers Lyanna in Rhaegar Targaryen's arms, their naked limbs intertwined, the steady rise-and-fall of their breaths, the rising sun in the east dappling their skin in shades of gold. It is she who sees first the enormous swell of her belly that meant she carried a prince's bastard, his fingers draped possessively over her pale, Northern skin.

It was Arianne who discovered her goodbrother with another woman in his arms, and she-  
she stepped back out, her hand clamped over her mouth, holding back the scream, tears rushing salty-quick down her beautiful, furious face-  
she stepped back out, and called for Oberyn-

Arianne Martell could not prevent Aerys from burning Rickard and Brandon Stark alive.  
Arianne Martell prevented a war instead.

 

###### Or.

Robert Baratheon does not rebel, for the Martells inform him his betrothed is _in love with the fucking Targaryen_ -

Robert believes them, because they have no reason to lie, but something in him _breaks,_ and he is not the same boy Jon Arryn raised, not from that day on.

And when the young Prince has left for the capital to take his new crown, entrusting Lyanna's safety, the _unborn babe's_ safety in their hands, they promptly arrange to have the girl returned home. A ship leaves Sunspear with Lyanna Stark, when she is eight moons pregnant, and too weak to protest them at all.

When the ship docks at White Harbor, Eddard, Lord Stark, is waiting at the pier, his new riverlands' wife by his side, her flame-red hair whipping in the sea breeze. When the ship docks, Lyanna is already dead.

 

###### Or.

Lyanna would've named him Aegon, for the prophecy said the dragon needed three heads, and Rhaegar believed it, truly, truly he did. His was the destiny of Azor Ahai, and he would defeat the encroaching darkness.

But Ned only knew this - he had a nephew, a bastard child of kingsblood and wolfsblood, and the world would weigh heavy upon his too-little shoulders. And so Ned named him Jon, for the bravest, most honorable man he knew, and vowed to love him as a son.

It was a vow easily made, for as it turned, Jon Snow had goodness that ran soul-deep,inspite of his blood, or perhaps because of it. Ned kept his vow, and Catelyn kept it too, for - and this you already know - Jon was so very, _very_ easy to love.

 

###### Or.

Tywin Lannister stays loyal. 

Tywin stays loyal, and does not sack the capital, does not send his armies to Ned Stark's aide, but Aerys threatens them all, and Jaime, held hostage by the King, a boy who is still good-hearted and brave and  _aching_ to avenge Queen Rhaella, knows about the wildfire hidden beneath the city.

Tywin stays loyal, but Jaime does not.

When Rhaegar returns to the capital, to his wife and trueborn children, to the corpse of his father still fresh on the throne room's floor, he beheads the young knight, and sends his bones to Casterly Rock.

 _Golden crowns, and golden shrouds.  
_ There is less power in prophecies than you might think. 

 

###### Or.

The first time Sansa meets Arya, she is three-and-ten, and Sansa is two years older still, and they are shy and hesitant around each other, until Obarra gets into a heated, screaming match with the handsome blacksmith boy from the Crownlands who follows Arya around with a perpetually hangdog expression. There is a rumour that he is one of the Baratheon bastards, but Gendry carries the name Waters as comfortably as Sansa does Stark, and none of the Martells know what to make of him except this - he is so very, very painfully in love.

Arya attempts to punch Obarra in the face when she insults Gendry's mother, however, when his face falls in naked, open, defenceless  _hurt,_ because _this_ is Arya - fierce and loyal and thirsting for blood.

But Obarra pulls out her knives before the hit connects, and Gendry tries to do the stupid, valiant thing and pull Arya behind him, even though Arya has a bloody _sword_ , and then _Sansa_ has to step in, thinking all the time how gods bedamned _tiresome_ they all are, all these fucking idiot girls Oberyn has sired, with their hot-blooded tempers, and brash, cruel mouths, and sweet, hungry cunts-

She's the one who must drag Obarra by the pigtails and remind her that _hitting highborn girls is_ ** _stupid_** _way to get beheaded, you daft bitch!_

Arya whinges at Sansa for cutting her murder short, later, because this is also Arya - remarkably, hilariously, **_exactly_** like the Sand Snakes she pretends to hate.

Sansa informs her that she can try to murder Obarra in a moon's time, but only if she trains with the Sand Snakes for the rest of her sennight at Dorne, and Arya gapes at her older sister as if she's grown a second head.

"You're alright with me _killing_ her. Your _friend._ " Arya says this very, very flatly, as if she cannot believe her pretty, gentle sister understands the concept of _murder._ As if Dorne is so kind and clean and perfect to young women like her, as if Sansa knows _nothing._

But this is her blood, even if she's strange and sullen, and they are alien to each other for all their shared ancestry. So Sansa merely shrugs, and replies this.

"Valar morghulis."   
It is the first time she sees Arya smile, and for a moment, Sansa hates the peace their fathers have wrought.

They should've shared a home, these two. They should have known each other well before now.  
It is easy to wish for things you don't have.

 

###### Or.

This is how Jon Snow is born - on a creaking ship, on wind-tossed waves, his mother's screams echoing in the hull.

Lyanna dies before the babe comes, weary and seasick, her limbs grey with fatigue, her cheeks sunken with starvation for how little food she can keep dawn, her lips cracked, her eyes bloodshot and streaming with tears, and this is how Jon Snow is born - with Arthur Dayne's sword cleaving open her womb as sea water sloshes into the hold, the air thick with salt.

Her flesh parts with a sick, bloody squelch, her dead limbs spasming at the force of his blade, and Arthur reaches into her entrails and pulls out her babe, and palpates the thin, tiny chest until the child cries out.

This is how Jon Snow is born, on stormy seas, his mother's body mutilated in the hold of a merchant vessel, wailing out his tiny lungs in the arms of a bloody, exhausted Knight of the Realm.

 

###### Or.

This is how Lyanna dies - alone and abandoned; ripped asunder.

This is the price the gods take for love.

 

###### Or.

Sansa is born at the height of summer, and this is her only memory of home-

The blue of her brother's eyes. _Robb._  
The rumble of her father's voice. _Eddard.  
_ A kiss upon her brow, a hand on her shoulder, the soft tickle of furs beneath her chin. _Catelyn._

These are the fragments of her home, that she carries them close to her breast, secreted away with the flash of Arya's swords and the warmth of Jon Snow's smile. 

 

###### Or.

The first man Sansa _wants -_ wants the way a woman wants a man - is Oberyn Martell.

It is Dorea who notices Sansa watch her father, watch the way he smiles at her from across a banquet table, the way she blushes when he asks her to dance at a feast, the way her gaze slips to his bare chest in the courtyard where he trains with his Snakes. It is Dorea who nudges her with an elbow, teases her with an arched brow, slips her a packet of tansy tea, and tells her in no uncertain terms - _'If you want Papa, you should take him. He will like you better for it.'_

Sansa is wide-eyed at the end of this statement, but a fortnight later, she carries a lantern through the corridors of the palace, late when the moon is round and high, the heavens studded with bright, watchful stars, and slips into the Prince's bedchambers on a night when she is certain he is alone.

He is awake when she arrives, lounging in the balconette, watching the sea crash against the cliffs far below, stripped to loose pantaloons, idly sipping wine, and when he sees her, he does not move, does not startle. He watches her with hot eyes, dark eyes, sipping his wine as the moonlight traces the long, elegant lines of his near-nude body. Sansa slips off her robe, baring milky skin, and high, perfect breasts, tipped in rose, and a thatch of fiery curls over her cunt.

She walks to his side, takes the wine cup from his hand, and drains it dry. When she looks back at him, Oberyn is smiling, a curious, melting curl of a smile, and Sansa feels wetness trickle down her thigh, blood thumping in her belly, her knees beginning to buckle. He pulls her into his lap, and she goes willingly, her thighs bracketing his hips, as he tilts her open mouth up for a kiss.

She is fifteen.

 

###### Or.

When the Greyjoys rebel, it is Tywin Lannister who mounts the defense, raising a fleet that staggers the imagination, crushing House Greyjoy to naught but ashes. 

King Rhaegar rewards him, in the way all kings rewards distrustful subjects, with a boon that is at once a curse - Viserys shall wed Cersei. 

 

###### Or.

Sansa loves Arianne Martell, the way a babe loves a mother.  
Sansa admires Arianne Martell, the way a boy admires a father.  
Sansa desires Arianne Martell, the way a man desires a lover.

But it was Arianne who sent away Aunt Lyanna, even though she was weak and bellyful, sent her on a voyage through the storms of the Narrow Sea, and it was Arianne who killed her, as surely as if she had drove the sword through Aunt Lyanna's heart.

Sansa loves Arianne Martell, but Sansa does not forget.  
Sansa remembers, and desires her power more than she desires the woman.  
_The North remembers._

 

###### Or.

There is a lie in this story.  
There are many liars here, and yet, the lie is only one.

The second time she meets Jon Snow, is not when she takes him. The second time, she meets him with darkened hair, and a hooded gaze, and eyes that are full of hurt. She calls herself Alayne, and when recognition sparks in his eyes, she melts back into the shadows, and disappears from his sight. He should raise an alarm, he knows, for this girl is far, far, far from home. But the blood in his ears is roaring, and there is a counterpoint of fury crashing in his chest, a familiar, long-quashed pain-

Here is the first thing he thinks of - _You are no longer Lady Sansa, are you? You are Lady Stark, now. The Lady of Winterfell._

And here is the second - _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so- I miss her too, Sansa; she was my mother too._

But Sansa looks at him with hard, distrustful eyes, for she is a Stark and he is still a Targaryen, and the next day, she is gone from the capitol, from the Red Keep, from the Holdfast, as quietly as she came. The next day, Jon's walks into his half-brother's bedchamber, and finds the mattress soaking red, Elia curved over her dead son's body, her body wracked with silent pain.

Aegon Targaryen is dead.   
Daenerys Targaryen has abdicated.  
And suddenly, Jon Snow finds himself closing in on his Father's throne, just as Sansa has taken her Father's mantle.

_Seven bloody hells. What has she done?_

**Author's Note:**

> if you're like what the fUCK is HAPPENING IN THIS FIC, buddy, same because no, this story isn't complete.  
> but also, no, i won't be updating it.  
> so.  
> hope you like it anyway? leave kudos if you do, and as ever, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
